


may the odds be ever in your favor

by distrusterofgazebos



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Artist Richie Tozier, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Death, Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hunter Eddie Kaspbrak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak, Minor Character Death, Reddie, archer eddie, baker richie, betty is eddie's sister, bill is gale, bill loves eddie and eddie feels protected by him, but it's mainly one sided, but not REALLY enemies richie flirts and it pisses eddie off, eddie is katniss, eddie kaspbrak centric, it's gay!!, it's violent but happy ending i promise, just the first book, mlm, no beta we die like men, richie is peeta, yknow like prim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distrusterofgazebos/pseuds/distrusterofgazebos
Summary: Hunger Games AUAfter Eddie's sister is called in the reaping, Eddie immediately volunteers in her place. The first all male district pairing, he and his fellow tribute Richie Tozier make their way to the Capitol to battle it out in the arena.(Character list and translation between the two canons in the notes at the end)Come talk to me at @alaslalune on tumblr!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 31
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was a cold day out, and knowing what lay in store for him later left a bitter chill creeping down Eddie’s neck.

He woke early, careful not to disturb Betty as he climbed out of bed- unfortunately, she was a light sleeper, and woke as soon as his feet rested on the uneven floorboards.

“Where are you going?” Betty asked, her voice quiet and weighed down with sleep.

“Going to meet Bill,” he said, turning to face her with a soft smile. 

“It’s not even light out,” she said tiredly, hands reaching out to latch around his arm. “C’mon....”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmured, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head and standing. “Getting some food for after the Reaping.”

He should’ve known better than to say the word aloud, for Betty stiffened slightly and looked at him with nervous eyes. Eddie mentally chastised himself, and pulled the threadbare blanket they shared tighter around his sister. “Here. After the Reaping I’ll cook whatever I catch, and you can bake something from the grain I got this year. Sounds good?”

“How much grain did you get?” She asked, and Eddie was thankful to see that she was calming.

“Four times the normal amount,” he coaxed, and her small face seemed to brighten. He was glad that she didn’t seem to understand what that meant- that his name was in four extra times.

“I’ll be back in time for the Reaping,” Eddie promised, standing and moving carefully to the small rickety wardrobe that held their clothes. He made sure to keep quiet- his mother would be furious if he woke her up when leaving. It was a fact of life that Eddie needed to go out to gather food for the family, but if his mother was up when he left he’d be far more constricted in where he could go.

Hunting was the only time when he could really be free. 

Dressing carefully, he tugged on an old pair of pants that, even though they were from when he was thirteen, still fit him well enough- along with a plain black shirt and boots. Leaning down to plant a final kiss to Betty’s hair, he grabbed his bow and quiver from the corner of the room.

“Get some more sleep,” he told her with a small smile. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

“Stay safe,” she tried to say, but her eyes were already beginning to close and head nodding off. 

With that, Eddie took off- dashing out the front door with his light feet barely touching the ground. With his quiver slung over his shoulder and bow in hand, he felt unstoppable.

His mother had insisted that they live on the outskirts of town- his father having to trek through town on his way to and from work to buy whatever his mother wished. Despite their house being perpetually dirty, she’d always insisted that her husband find some way of washing off before stepping foot inside. It used to be Eddie’s job when he was a little boy to bring out a bucket of water to his father, fresh from the mines. 

Now that his father was dead, their home location seemed more of an annoyance.

However, it had one plus- no neighbors. There were no people that shared the Kaspbrak’s dirt path, which meant that Eddie was easily able to sneak into the outcropping of trees on the right side of his house and follow them into the woods- easily climbing through the three foot tear in the electric fence that hadn’t been on in years.

Frank Kaspbrak had been the one to introduce Eddie to the woods. Not hunting at first- not necessarily. It began when his mother was nursing Betty, and when she would get into one of her screaming tempers Eddie’s father would take his hand and lead him into the woods. The two would go for walks, with his father teaching Eddie about the flora and fauna and just enjoying the privacy of it all. After a few months, Eddie began to learn how to rig traps for small animals and how to fish. When he was eight, his father taught him how to use a bow.

When he was nine, his father’s section of the mine exploded. 

The news had been carried by a few of his solemn fellow miners to their door- that they were very sorry, that it was a horrible accident. They’d heard the rumbling down in the caverns, and the miners had made a run for it. Unfortunately, Frank Kaspbrak had been furthest in and far more focused on getting the others to safety then himself. 

His mother hadn’t sobbed when she’d learned the news. She’d thanked the miners and turned back to a bawling Betty and shocked Eddie- and instead of beginning to cry herself, she began to yell. Yell at his father. She’d yelled about how stupid he was, how fragile and weak both in body and in mind.

That night was the first night that Eddie went out to the woods alone- he’d shot three rabbits before realizing that he didn’t know how to cook them, that his father had always taken care of that. 

That was when Bill came into his life.

His father, another miner, had died in the same accident that Eddie’s had. He’d found Eddie one day in school a few days after the memorial, and the two had sat silently side by side for the entirety of recess. 

After that, they were inseparable.

It turned out that Bill could hunt as well- in fact, he was fantastic at it. The two made an excellent duo- where Eddie couldn’t miss with an arrow, Bill could catch anything he wanted with a trap. The two weren’t necessarily outcasts in District 12- it seemed impossible to be an outcast in a place made up of outcasts. However, as popularity went… Bill and Eddie had zero. With Bill’s unfortunate stutter and Eddie’s dry and bitter attitude, the pair didn’t attract many others. 

It seemed fine to the two of them, though. They had each other, which was more than enough.

Bill was waiting for Eddie next to the first trap they’d set the day before. “Eddie,” he said warmly in greeting, smiling at him. “Nice t-t-to see you.”

“You too,” Eddie said, peering up at the trap- a net that shot up into the trees when sensing weight. A squirrel sat in it, which made Eddie nod approvingly. “I have a few orders for squirrels. This’ll come in handy.”

Bill chuckled and nodded. “W-we’ll grab it o-on our way back- I h-have something to s-show you.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Bill, instead of replying, chose to turn and begin trekking further into the woods. Eddie followed, not needing to look around at his surroundings to have a perfect sense of location. He knew these woods like the back of his hand.

Bill led Eddie up to the crest of the largest hill still within District 12’s limits, taking Eddie’s hand to pull him up over a few rocks- not one hundred percent necessary, but a habit between the pair given their sizable difference in height. Eddie stood on the edge of the hill, where it dropped steeply into what one could call a cliff, albeit generously. Standing there with his bow in one hand as he surveyed their district- it gave Eddie a sense of power. A sense of belonging.

Bill dropped to the ground next to him, kicking his legs over the side of the hill and looking at the view the same as Eddie. He opened his bag to offer something to Eddie- a crusty loaf of bread, the aroma of baked yeast still wafting from it. Eddie gasped and dropped to sit next to Bill, taking it in his hands to study the bread in shock. He hadn’t seen bread like this in years- really, since his father died.

“Where did you get this?!” He questioned, swinging his head to Bill in surprise. 

“Traded a r-r-rabbit for it-t,” Bill said proudly, taking the bread back from Eddie and doing his best to split it down the middle before offering it to Eddie. 

Eddie made short work of his bread, although he tried to savor it. The fluffiness of the bread was a rarity in his life- his meals mainly consisted of the lean animals he killed and whatever Betty managed to make from the plants she dug up around their house. His particular favorite was the katniss- root vegetables that his father had taught him to pull up around a pond where he used to swim. 

“Shit, thank you…” he mumbled, wiping at his mouth once he finished. Bill offered him a light smile and nudged Eddie’s shoulder. Bill wasn’t what one would necessarily deem a ‘talker’- he was intelligent, there was no question. But because of Bill’s stutter, which would worsen with his mood, sometimes sentences were nearly impossible for him to get out. Instead he developed a reputation of being quiet and sticking to himself. It suited him and Eddie, given that Eddie had developed a reputation for being polite to the adults in the district, and not afraid to snap at anyone his age. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, just watching District 12. It wasn’t a large district- at least, Eddie didn’t think so. He didn’t have anywhere to compare it to. It was a rundown place, with most if not every building being bleak and gray, with seldom a second story. There was barely any pavement, mostly dirt roads, and the town square was almost always filled with a semi-opacent cloud of smoke. Eddie was in no way attached to the place, but he had a sense of duty. He was born in District 12. He’d die in District 12. That was how things were. He’d known ever since he could think that as soon as he was old enough, he’d work in the mines. At sixteen, Eddie only had a year to go. Bill, who was seventeen, had just started. He hated it, and his stories only made Eddie more insistent on hunting enough so that he’d never have to face the mines. He knew it was futile though- it was his birthright. The next year he’d begin work in the mines. In a few years he’d marry one of the girls from school, and they’d have a few kids. And every fucking year after that, he would still have to go to the Reaping. 

“How m-many times is y-your name i-i-in?” Bill asked him, leaning back on one hand and watching the distant figures of Peacekeepers setting up a stage in the town square. 

“Ten times,” Eddie said, taking a deep breath that came out sounding like a sigh. “Needed the extra tesserae. You?”

Bill was quiet for a moment, something that Eddie knew either meant that he was thinking or that he wasn’t sure if he should say. “Forty.”

Eddie’s head snapped towards him once more. “Shit, Bill, forty?!”

Bill held his hands up in protest. “I-I have thr-ree siblings, E-Eddie!”

“Forty?!” Eddie repeated, still in shock. “Bill, your name’s gonna be on half of those slips of paper!”

Bill waved his hand slightly, trying to appear noncommittal- but his eyes gave him away. Dark blue, like how they got when he was sad. 

Eddie shook his head. “You’re almost out of it…. Don’t push your luck.”

“Only t-two more,” Bill said with a weak smile.

Eddie opened his mouth to say something else when his eyes caught on something. “Shit.”

Peacekeeper trucks were driving in a uniform line towards their district, the road they were on inevitably passing by their hill. 

Without a word Bill lunged to his feet and grabbed Eddie’s arm, pulling him down from the hill and into the welcoming camouflage of the forest. “W-what are t-t-they doing here?”

“Probably for the Reaping,” Eddie said bitterly, watching as Bill removed his hand from his arm. “C’mon- my mom’ll lose it if I’m not back to get dressed in time.”

The two made their way through the woods and back the way they came, stopping by their traps and taking out their spoils. Eddie let Bill take whatever they’d caught- they were his traps after all, and Eddie didn’t much like the part that came after hunting. 

Once they’d both left through the hole in the fence, Eddie tucked his bow and quiver into a tree branch just outside of the fence. He didn’t want it laying around on Reaping day in case anyone came by- anyone meaning the Peacekeepers. Most people around town turned a blind eye to Eddie’s technically illegal hunting if it meant that they could buy some of the fruits of his labor- he’d even sold wild strawberries to the mayor once. But the Peacekeepers? Far too Capitol. If they knew about his hunting outside of the district fence, Eddie could face serious repercussions that he couldn’t afford. 

Bill and Eddie split up then, Bill pulling Eddie into a hug and promising that he’d save him a spot that afternoon. Eddie was caught up in the hug for a moment, feeling safe for the first time in ages, before Bill was pulling away and heading home. Eddie moved towards his own house, steeling himself before he entered. 

“Where have you been?!” His mother screeched upon his opening the door, and Betty ran towards him. Eddie immediately felt guilty for leaving her alone with their mother, especially when she was worked up like this.

“Checking on some traps,” Eddie said defensively, moving past her into the small bedroom that he and Betty shared. He opened his closet to pull out his Reaping clothes- the benefit of still being small well into his teenage years? Eddie never needed new clothes. He dressed quickly in the simple white button down shirt and gray pants, which still infuriatingly brushed the tops of his scuffed loafers- they were his father's once, and even though his mother often described Frank Kaspbrak as a weak and small man Eddie still had to stuff bits of paper into the toes of his shoes. 

Betty stepped into the room as soon as Eddie had finished, spinning to show him her outfit. It was clearly an old outfit of Sonia’s, given how it hung off of her petite frame, but it was from so long ago that it wasn’t too bad. The yellow blouse tucked into a blue skirt, but the back of the blouse refused to tuck stubbornly. Eddie laughed and bent down to fix it. “Now you don’t have a ducktail.”

“Do I look okay?” Betty asked, a sudden wave of worry overcoming her. Eddie knew why- at twelve, it was her first year to have her name in the Reaping. 

“You look perfect,” he reassured her, stepping in front of the grimey mirror to try and tame his hair. Normally he’d use a splash of water to style it, but it was growing out just enough to curl above his ears. Eddie was indifferent about it, but his mother hated it. He stubbornly refused any haircuts. 

“I’m scared,” came his sister’s small voice, and Eddie turned to see Betty standing there with wide eyes that threatened to fill with tears.

“Hey, hey.” Eddie crouched slightly so he was looking up at her, holding her face in his hands. “How old are you, Betty?”

“Twelve,” she sniffled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Eddie’s thumb brushed it away.

“Your name is in there one time,” he coaxed softly. “One time, against hundreds and hundreds of other names. There’s no way that you’ll be picked.”

“What if you’re picked?” She asked, voice watery and waving. 

“It’s my fifth year,” he reminded her. “And my name’s only in it a few times. If they pick anyone, it’ll be someone with tens of slips of paper.”  _ Like Bill _ , said his mind, and Eddie fought to get rid of the thought. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Betty nodded shakily, wiping at her eyes with one hand. Eddie rose and took her other hand, giving it a small squeeze before making his way out into the main room. His mother waited for them there, dressed in a plain green dress with a skirt that was already threatened by discoloring. “Are you two ready?” She asked, in the strangely distant way that she had when she wasn’t furious.

Eddie nodded and looked down to Betty. “What about you, little duck?” He reached to tuck in her stubborn shirt back in once more. Betty nodded, looking at him with a nervous expression.

His mother took that as a cue to leave, stepping out the door and forcing Eddie and Betty to walk behind her. 

His mother rarely left the house- sometimes it felt like the only time she’d go to town was on Reaping Day. Besides that, it was up to Eddie and Betty to pick up things from stores on their way home from school. Eddie’s hunting was their only source of income- and even with that, there was no doubt that they were part of the poorer population. 

Even though their house was on the outskirts of town, it didn’t take long to reach the town square. District 12 was small- a place where you knew everyone around you (whether you liked them or not). Reaching the town square and looking around, Eddie could easily identify his classmates and the people he normally sold his hunting spoils to at the Hob- District 12’s black market. 

His mother moved immediately to the outskirts of the crowd, wedging her way between Sharon Denbrough, Bill’s mother, and Mrs. Starett, Eddie’s sixth grade school teacher. Turning to his sister, Eddie said “go find some of your friends, okay?”

Betty nodded and with a tight hug around his waist, moved off into the crowd of girls and stationed herself towards the middle.

Eddie moved to the crowd of boys, making his way to the group of boys his age. He chose a spot that Bill had saved him- right in front of the older boy. As a way of greeting Bill squeezed Eddie’s shoulder reassuringly, and Eddie twisted his head for a moment to flash a tight smile. 

It didn’t take long for the ‘festivities’ to begin. As soon as the town clock struck two, the mayor stepped up to the podium to begin his yearly speech, standing at a microphone positioned between two glass balls on pedestals filled with small slips of paper. Eddie zoned out nearly as soon as it’d begun- he’d had it practically memorized since he was six. The mayor told the story of Panem- their country, and how it rose from the destruction of a place once known as North America. He spoke of the rebellion, of how the districts rose up and fought back against the Capitol- how twelve were defeated, the thirteenth totally obliterated. The Treaty of Treason was made, creating new laws of peace- and creating the Hunger Games, a yearly reminder of the districts’ betrayal to the Capitol. 

Afterwards, he explained what the Hunger Games were, and the simple rules. Each year, one boy and one girl between twelve to eighteen from each of the districts were sent to the Capitol. Those twenty-four children were considered tributes, and they were all locked in an outdoor arena- and for the course of several weeks, they’d fight to the death until one was left standing. The victor. It was a twisted reminder of the Capitol’s power over the districts. 

After finishing the announcement, the mayor proceeded to list the past victors of District 12. In the last seventy-four years, there were only two- and one was still alive. Ben Hanscom, a middle aged man that seemed in a perpetual state of sorrow. At that exact moment he joined the mayor on stage, silent as he made his way to a single seat towards the back of his stage- his step wobbled, and the notion that he was drunk wasn’t wasted on anyone. Following him is Beverly Marsh- District 12’s escort, sent from the Capitol to host the district’s tributes. She was always a vision with her bright red hair curling at her chin, and that day she wore a rose colored suit with green vines twisting around her body. She made sure that Ben was alright- and he did seem alright, just tired and intoxicated- before joining the mayor at the microphone. He nodded and stepped back to stand next to Ben Hanscom’s seat silently.

“Hello, District 12,” Beverly said, and Eddie couldn’t help but thank that she wasn’t using a false voice of excitement like the escort before her had. The other one, a man that Eddie could barely remember the name of, was always painfully aware of the fact that the Reaping was televised to the entirety of Panem- and District 12, with it’s dirty mines and dirty population, was constantly the laughingstock of the country. “Happy Hunger Games,” she continued solemnly, piercing eyes looking over the crowd while the corners of her mouth pulled down in a slight frown- “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Eddie twisted to shoot a look to Bill, who was staring straight ahead with a pained look in his eyes. The odds weren’t in his favor- with the forty slips of paper in the glass ball with his name on them. He reached behind him to take the taller boy’s hand, squeezing it slightly. Although Eddie faced back to front, he could feel Bill squeeze his hand in return.

“Ladies first,” Beverly declared, and moved to the glass ball on her right. Lifting a hand, she plunged it into the sea of papers. Eddie winced, thinking of the hundreds of paper cuts waiting to sting her hand. Beverly sifted her hand around for a moment before finally pulling it back out, a small folded slip of paper between her fingers. She moved back to the microphone, carefully unfolding the piece of paper and steeling herself before leaning back in to announce the name to the audience. 

“Betty Kaspbrak.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Betty is called for the Reaping, Eddie knows that he can't let her go into that arena. And the other tribute.... how will he be able to kill the boy who once saved his life?

**Chapter Two**

The air left Eddie’s lungs, and his head shot up to scan the crowd wildly. The others around him were doing the same, and it took Eddie a second to locate his sister- her friends had cleared a wide berth around her, and Betty was left standing still in shock. 

Her broken voice came back to him- “ _ I’m scared _ ” and how Eddie had convinced her that she’d be okay. Only one slip in hundreds. 

Peacekeepers were already making their way towards her, and Eddie couldn’t breathe as he watched the law enforcers in white push through the crowd to reach his baby sister. His chest was clenching, and in any other world he’d be dropping to the ground like he did whenever he had these attacks- asthma, his mother insisted that they were called, but the school nurse pulled him aside a few years ago to explain that in reality Eddie had panic attacks.

This panic attack couldn’t have come at a worse time as he watched the Peacekeepers move to flank Betty, and Bill’s shocked gasp behind him, pushing Eddie into motion despite the aching in his chest.

“I volunteer!” Eddie screamed wildly, and he shoved his way through the crowd of his peers. Eddie was relatively small, but he’d built up enough muscle from hunting that he was able to shove aside the taller boys- who, luckily, didn’t put up a fight. Eddie managed to push his way to the center heavily, chest heaving for air as he stared up at a startled Beverly Marsh. “I volunteer as tribute!”

Small gasps spread throughout the crowd- from the corner of his eye, Eddie barely registered his mother let out a weak sob at the sight of both of her children pull the district’s attention- not only the district, Eddie realized as he remembered the TV cameras, but all of Panem. However, Eddie’s focus was on Betty, who’d turn to look at him in fear- small tears tracking down her cheeks. 

“I volunteer,” he said once more, calmer but voice still carrying a wheezing aspect that made him suck down a few more breaths. 

“Eddie, no!” Betty shrieked, but one of the Peacekeepers forcefully shushed her, making Eddie’s blood boil. 

“I- um.” Beverly seemed at a loss for words. Volunteering for the Games in someone’s place was allowed, but never had happened in District 12. It mainly happened in the rich districts like 1, 2, and 4, where being a tribute was seen as an opportunity- no, it didn’t happen in 12, where being a tribute was a death sentence. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” he said, beginning to calm himself- a minor panic attack then, though all the eyes on him were not helping.

“Oh, is this your sister?” She asked, looking to Betty who still had silent rivers coursing down her face.

“Yas. And I’d like to volunteer in her place,” Eddie said, as firmly as he could manage. The full weight of what he was saying wasn’t registering- at the moment, all he could think of was saving Betty. 

“Well…. I’m sorry, but you’re a boy, and she’s-”

“Technically,” Ben Hanscom said, causing all eyes to shift to him. He was still clearly intoxicated, but there was just enough focus in his expression to show that he was aware of the current happenings. “We don’t know that he can’t.”

Beverly blinked. “But he’s a boy, volunteering for the girl’s place.”

“Who’s to say that can’t happen?” Ben asked, not threateningly- in fact, his intoxicated lull of a voice seemed to be an invitation to a conversation. “It’s never happened before, sure, but…. Why can’t it?”

That puzzled Beverly for a moment. “I…. it’s never come up before,” she admitted. 

“Let the people decide,” Ben declared, flinging his arm to the entirety of District 12 as if it were his decision to make. 

Silence.

Eddie felt his back tense, but he didn’t dare look around him pleadingly. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on Betty, knowing full well that he would  _ never _ let her be forced into the arena.

Slowly, in front of him, a woman pressed her three center fingers to her lips and lifted them to the air, staring at Beverly headon. Others began to replicate the gesture, then more and more, until nearly the entire district had their hands held up in the air silently, staring up at the stage. It was an old gesture of District 12’s, occasionally seen at funerals. The meaning was admiration, respect, thanks. It was a goodbye to someone you loved. 

Eddie’s eyes welled up with tears at the gesture, looking around him in shock. 

“There we have it,” Beverly said after a moment, taking a long look at the crowd. “Well. Eddie Kaspbrak, our first tribute of District 12.”

Betty let out a gut-wrenching scream, dodging the Peacekeepers to launch herself at Eddie and wrap her arms around his waist. “Eddie, you can’t- Please-”

Bill ran towards her and with his strength and height managed to pull her from Eddie, wrapping the girl in his arms. Eddie watched with a single stray tear falling from his eye. “I’m sorry, Betty,” he murmured, wanting to say something else- but the Peacekeepers were at his side, hooking their arms through his and pulling him towards the stage. That was when Eddie realized- he was a tribute of District 12, for the Hunger Games.

His mother sobbed loudly, the sound mixing with Betty’s cries and echoing around the otherwise silent town square. 

Eddie was guided to the steps of the stage, where he climbed up slowly. Beverly moved to guide him to stand beside her next to the microphone, her hand resting on his shoulder on what he figured would have been a reassuring gesture under different circumstances. Now he could only stare ahead blankly, the hopelessness of what he’d just done setting in- but no regret. 

“Alright,” Beverly said after a moment of what Eddie figured was letting the energy slowly dissipate from the crowd. “Now for the male- for the other tribute.” She lifted her hand from Eddie’s shoulder to move to the other glass ball, delicately reaching a hand in to sift through the papers. She only took a moment to select one from near the bottom, pulling a folded slip of paper out and moving back to the microphone to read it aloud.

“Richie Tozier.”

A ripple of whispers ran through the crowd as the boy’s section parted to allow Peacekeepers to escort the other tribute- someone whom Eddie unfortunately knew.

A memory ran through him- a rainy day, just after his father had died. Eddie, hungry and without the energy to make it home from school. He hadn’t eaten in days. And a boy- not much older than him, seeing Eddie’s plight. A careful glance behind him, and outstretched hand-

The Peacekeepers escorted Richie to the stage, and Eddie realized he hadn’t paid much thought to him in years. Richie had shot up in height- taller than Bill at least, maybe even pushing six feet. His hair, a nest of black curls, was unruly. Yet there was something charming about how angular his face was, and how his large glasses seemed to fit the absurdly  _ large  _ everything else about him.

Eddie maybe would’ve appreciated him- in another time. Now shock and anxiety covered Richie’s face, what felt like an unusual combination for him, and Eddie was forced to remember that they were both being sentenced to their deaths. 

Richie joined Eddie on stage, standing on the other side of Beverly. Beverly asked out for volunteers, but was met by silence. It didn’t surprise Eddie- he vaguely remembered Richie being an only child, and friends weren’t likely to volunteer in your place. 

As the mayor read the Treaty of Treason, as he did every year, Eddie couldn’t help but think back to his one actual interaction with Richie Tozier.

Richie was the baker’s son, and often worked in his family’s bakery after school since he was about eight. He was a year older than Eddie, in Bill’s class, and Eddie had only really seemed to see him in passing. Bill didn’t have much of an opinion on him, said that he was goofy and always one to crack a joke. But Eddie never really knew anything about him firsthand.

Until that one day.

The months following his father’s death were hard. His mother refused to do any work, always crying or screaming or sleeping. She’d help run the town apothecary, once, but lost that job once her mourning period showed no sign of ending. The Kaspbraks had gotten some money in recompense for Frank’s death, but not nearly enough to live off of. They burned through it quickly, and most of their savings. Eddie and Betty would sometimes go for a few days without eating.

One day, at the worst of it, Eddie had been tasked with going to the bakery after school and buying a loaf of bread with the money his mother had given him. However, when he got to the bakery and entered, he learned he had half of the money needed.

When Eddie’d exited the bakery, it had begun to pour. Large, dark raindrops pelted him, and Eddie had made a run for it. He barely made it a few yards before slipping in the mud, and the exhaustion and empty aching of starvation had made it impossible to get back up. He’d managed to crawl to lean against the tree on the side of the bakery, shivering from the rain and from his blinding hunger.

Eddie had seen Richie then, stepping out of the bakery. He’d been barely holding back tears and clutching a half burnt loaf of bread- a woman’s voice yelled from inside- “ _ feed that shit to the hogs _ -” before Richie had closed the door and effectively cut off the yelling. He’d climbed down the few stone steps, evidently set on going to the pigpen towards the back of the bakery, when he had noticed Eddie.

Eyes large and magnified behind his glasses, Richie had taken in how exhausted and sickly Eddie looked, trembling against the tree. The boy’s eyes had flickered between Eddie and the pigpen, before making his way beneath the tree and holding out the loaf to Eddie.

“Here,” he’d said, and while Eddie had heard of him as a funny chatterbox, there was nothing silly or talkative about Richie in that moment. He’d seemed so solemn as he offered the loaf of bread, not moving even as Eddie blinked up at him with his large, nearly owlish eyes.

Eddie wasn’t one to accept pity gifts, but his hunger quickly had gotten the best of him. He’d accepted the bread, holding it to his chest, and murmured out a “Thank you.” Richie had nodded, looked at him for a moment, before turning on his heel and returning to the bakery. 

Eddie’d torn off a chunk of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, and burnt or not, it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He nearly ate half the loaf before remembering there were others in his family, and stuffed the bread under his shirt to keep it dry as he ran the rest of the way home- energy renewed. 

The next day dandelions had begun to bloom, and Eddie had found a book of his fathers listing various edible plants to find around District 12- dandelions being one of them. 

Eddie still considered that loaf of bread being his savior from giving in to famine. And he owed Richie for it- for whether he knew it or not, at ten years old, Richie had saved his life. 

The mayor finished reading the Treaty of Treason, and gestured for Eddie and Richie to shake hands. Eddie turned to the other boy and looked up to meet his eyes- taking in the pained look on Richie’s face as he grasped Eddie’s hand shaking it firmly but not intimidatingly. His eyes didn’t leave Eddie’s, strangely piercing behind his glasses, and Eddie wondered if Richie remembered him. 

They turned back to the crowd as the anthem began to play, and Eddie wondered how he would be able to kill the boy who once saved his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies- i know this chapter is shorter than the first, but i wanted these specific events to be in their own chapter. see you in the next one! i hope i can keep my update schedule as often as possible.
> 
> come talk to me at @alaslalune on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are a time of mourning, confrontation, and new discoveries- are they not?

**Chapter Three**

As soon as the anthem finished playing, Eddie and Richie were immediately escorted towards the door in the back of the stage by Peacekeepers, Beverly moving to make Ben stand to follow. Eddie didn’t try and fight back, didn’t argue- he walked silently, staring down at his feet as if he were a prisoner.

And he was, wasn’t he?

A prisoner facing the cruelest death sentence there was. 

Eddie and Richie were marched right into the Justice Building, the pair separated to be practically shoved into different rooms. Eddie, on instinct, lunged towards the doorway- he hated feeling confined. His mother’s way of punishment when he was younger was locking him in his small bedroom, making it impossible for Eddie to go outside. The feeling of being forced into a room brought back memories of hurt and longing to be free. 

He imagined he’d get used to that feeling now.

The door was closed in Eddie’s face, and he hissed in frustration before turning away in resignation. Looking around, he realized that that single room was nicer than any room he’d ever been in before. High backed plush plum chairs, a carved wooden coffee table, and oil paintings hung on the walls. Eddie gaped in shock for a moment before moving to examine the paintings, one finger reaching up to trace the gilded copper frame of a particular seascape. Eddie had never seen the sea- that was mainly to District 4, the fishing district. In fact, most of District 12 didn’t know how to swim, or what to do near a body of water larger than their cracked bathtubs. However, Eddie’s father had shown him a small pond in the woods- the bottoms were covered in katniss, the root vegetable, and small fish. His father had taught him to swim and fish there, and once he’d died Eddie and Bill had returned to fish on numerous occasions. Once, on a particularly hot summer day without any ice at home, Bill had suggested that they go swimming- and while that wasn’t necessarily  _ strange  _ for them, there was something different about that day for Eddie. When he’d noticed Bill in a slightly different light- his height, the lean muscles of his back. 

That day had changed his perception of Bill irrevocably, whether Eddie chose to acknowledge it or not.

And he didn’t. 

Suddenly, with a sharp crack of wood that made Eddie jump, his mother and Betty entered the room. Sonia Kaspbrak pushed the door aside forcefully and strode to Eddie to pull him into a tight hug, all the while whimpering pitifully. “My baby boy,” she cried out, sniffling. “Oh, Eddie….”

Eddie struggled to keep a straight face- not for his mother’s sake, of course not, for for Betty- who was standing silently behind their mother with large tears dripping down her face.

He managed to escape from his mother’s arms and crouched in front of Betty, pulling her into a tight hug. His sister buried her face in his shoulder, trembling weakly. Eddie held her in his arms, burying his face in Betty’s hair.

“You’ll be alright,” she warbled in a shaky voice. “You- you can shoot. You have your bow.”

“I have my bow,” Eddie murmured in return, but inside he had much less confidence. There was no guarantee that there would be a bow in the arena- and arrows were an even longer shot. Even if he could use his hunting skills, he was used to shooting squirrels and rabbits, not-

“People are easier targets, right?” Betty asked softly, looking at him with shining red eyes. 

Eddie’s heart clenched. “Don’t think about that, okay?” He asked her. 

She sniffed, holding back another wave of tears. “You’re brave enough, Eddie,” she said softly. “I- I believe in you.” Reaching down, she pulled something from her skirt pocket with shaky hands and offered it to him. A gold pin glinted in the palm of her hand, far nicer than most things one saw in District 12. Eddie recognized the subject- a mockingjay, perched above an arrow. “For good luck,” she murmured. “I got it as a gift at the store.”

He gave her a weak smile, trying to will back the tears that threatened his own eyes as he took the mockingjay and pinned it to his collar. “Thank you, Betty.” He pressed a small kiss to her forehead before standing and turning on his mother, who was standing behind him and heaving weak sobs.

“Mom,” Eddie said forcefully, and she raised her eyes to meet his. “No matter what happens, you do  _ not  _ take it out on Betty, alright?” She opened her mouth in near indignation to argue, but Eddie had years of fury built up inside of him, ready to spill out on his near deathbed. “It can’t be like after Dad died. You need to take care of her. Go into town. Try and get a job. Do  _ something _ ,” he spat, and the shock covering his mother’s face left him an inkling of pride.

“Eddie, I-”

“Time’s up,” said a Peacekeeper at the door in a gruff voice, rapping on the doorframe as to express his point. 

Eddie gave Betty a watery smile. “I’ll see you,” he said softly, and his sister began to bawl once more as their mother pulled her from the room. 

Eddie, tears finally escaping his eyes, collapsed into a chair and began to cry. He couldn’t process his surroundings until a hand rested on his shoulder, and Eddie wiped his eyes clear just fast enough to see Bill pull him into a hug. Eddie hugged him, practically clinging to him as he leaned up in his seat. Bill practically engulfed him in a hug, leaving Eddie to cry into his shoulder. He knew that they were wasting the precious time they had left together, but it was so hard to pull himself together.

“L-Listen, Eddie,” Bill said- “You g-g-get in there, you g-g-get a bow.” His stutter wasn’t particularly bad at that moment, but it still wasn’t making an effort to jam in as much as Bill clearly wanted to into the conversations. “You can b-beat them all-l with a b-bow.”

“We don’t know if there’ll even fucking  _ be _ one, Bill-” Eddie said wetly, voice shaky.

“T-Then you mak-ke one,” Bill said forcefully, holding Eddie’s chin firmly and forcing the younger boy to look into his shining eyes. “Better than n-n-nothing.” 

He had a point. Eddie’s father had taught him how to make a bow even before he learned how to shoot- part of the process, Frank Kaspbrak had said. His first bows that he’d ever made were crude and barely functioning (he’d ended up learning on his father’s bows instead of his own), but now Eddie was fairly proficient. He’d even sold a few down at the Hob, although because of the time it took to make them they always cost quite a price that few in District 12 were able to pay. 

“There’s a-almost always wood-d-d,” Bill continued. “It’s hunt-ting, Eddie. Y-You’re the b-b-best hunter I k-know.”

Eddie took a slow breath, trying to will his tears to slow. “It’s different, Bill! They’re- they’re teenagers, armed to the teeth-”

“Eddie,” Bill said, and his voice was so soft and devoid of any harshness that Eddie immediately began to cry again. “Eddie, y-you can do t-this.”

“I can’t kill people!” Eddie exclaimed sharply. “I kill animals!”

Bill’s expression didn’t change, didn’t become any less reassuring- but his eyes held Eddie’s coolly, and voiced his thoughts without even an echo of a stutter. “What’s the difference?”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and he stared up at Bill in shock as the words resonated in his mind. “Bill…”

The same Peacekeeper rapped on the door, clearly done with Eddie and Bill’s interaction already. “Time’s up.”

“A bow,” Bill insisted, as the Peacekeeper moved in to grab his arm. “Y-you need a b-bow!”

“Keep them fed!” Eddie called to him, near hysterics. Bill yelled out something in return, but he was soon out of earshot and Eddie’s emotions stopped him from understanding.

“Fuck!” Eddie yelled, and in his broken, emotional rage, his leg shot out and kicked at a leg of the intricately carved coffee table. It left a small dent in the wood, a throbbing in Eddie’s toe, and the ache of hopelessness in his heart. He couldn’t even damage a  _ coffee table _ \- how was he supposed to kill twenty three people?

The same Peacekeeper as before stepped back into the room, and he seemed less aggressive now- perhaps he was thinking the same thing as Eddie- what a hopeless case he was. “Train station,” he said, voice not exactly harsh, but in no way comforting. “This way.”

It wasn’t a necessarily long ride to the train station from the Justice Building- at least, it didn’t seem that way to Eddie, who sat silently the entire time in the back of the car across from Richie Tozier. He didn’t know if Richie wanted to try and communicate with him at all- As soon as the Peacekeeper escorted him onto the vehicle, Eddie ducked his head and stared at the floor. He could see Richie’s feet across from his, dressed in nicer shoes than Eddie had ever owned in his life- perks from coming from a family that wasn’t chained to the mines, he supposed.

Once at the train station, they were unloaded. From a separate car emerged Beverly and Ben, Beverly dusting off her suit carefully as Ben looked ready to either pass out or cry and ask for a drink. Eddie nearly felt the same- he wondered if the legal drinking age had any exceptions for tributes being sent to their death.

The station was nearly filled to the brim with reporters, all in Capitol get-up with bright hair and eye-burning clothing. Eddie’s tears had managed to slow to a stop on the ride to the train station, thankfully, but his eyes were no doubt red that the press could easily see. He neglected to speak to any one that shoved a microphone or camera in his face, instead staying at Richie’s side out of instinct. The other’s height made Eddie feel as if the attention was directed away from him, which Eddie was thankful for. 

“Alright then,” Beverly said, making her way over to the pair. She immediately took in how flustered the two tributes looked, and gave them a slightly sympathetic wince. “Follow me to the train- Ben’ll walk behind you.” She started off confidently into the crowd, and the reporters parted to form a path for her to walk to the train already waiting on the tracks. Eddie followed her, trying to imitate the confident way she held her shoulders back and kept her head straight, but growing up in District 12 had conditioned him to keep his shoulders slightly hunched and walk nearly skittish after growing up paranoid of everything around him.

Beverly led him up a thin silver set up stairs into the train- a sleek white vehicle the was elevated upon the magnetic rails. Inside, Eddie’s lips parted slightly in surprise- in the past hour, he’d been surrounded by far more luxurious items than he’d ever seen in his life. This single train car was decorated in mahogany, a few tables with chairs set up and finger foods stacked upon silver dishes. He couldn’t imagine what the Capitol would be like- from the stories he’d heard and the pictures he’d seen, Eddie had pieced together a place where the citizens hadn’t seen the levels of poverty that were common in District 12. A place where you didn’t need to worry about where your next meal came from.

A place where people enjoyed watching children fight to the death.

As soon as the doors closed behind Ben, Eddie felt the train begin to move- however, the movements were so smooth that he couldn’t tell the speed. He moved to the nearest window, and was shocked by how quickly the landscape was going by. Something thumped next to him, and he looked to his right to see Richie pressed to the window right next to him, with his palms pressed against the glass even with Eddie’s face- the simple act nearly seemed like an attack on Eddie’s height, who was particularly sensitive about that topic after years of his mother and school teachers voicing their concern about his health. 

“This is fucking fast, huh?” Richie murmured beneath his breath, staring out the window with a nearly dazed smile. He pulled his eyes away to look down at Eddie, who’s expression morphed into a scowl. Why the fuck was Richie looking so impressed by a Capitol piece of technology? How could he be feeling anything different than anger and defeat.

Eddie shrugged passive aggressively and turned around, facing Beverly. The woman was sitting at one of the mahogany tables, and Ben was seated next to her pouring a rather sizeable glass of whiskey that he’d most likely taken from a sideboard next to the table- the door was open and swinging slightly with the speed of the train. Eddie sat across from Beverly, hooking his ankles together beneath the table, and rested his folded hands on the table. He sat straight up in what he hoped came across as manners, but in reality was a habit since it was about as close as he could get to an arched back while sitting. It was a defensive action. Richie dropped into the seat next to him, and for his credit sat nearly as properly as Eddie did. It was most likely the most civilized gathering Eddie had ever seen outside of his house.

“So.” Richie started off, then almost immediately lost his train of thought. Eddie flicked his eyes over to him, raising an eyebrow speculatively. “What… what do we do?”

“There’s about an hour till dinner,” Beverly said, raising a wrist to examine a silver and auburn watch. “I’ll show you two to your rooms so you can get dressed.”

“I’m already dressed,” Richie said dumbly, and while Eddie was exasperated by how crudely he’d phrased it, he too was wondering what she meant as well.

Beverly gave him a smile that was half sympathetic, half miffed. “I suggest you change into evening clothes. You’ll find both of your rooms are stocked with clothes-” she paused, words dying in her throat before her eyes shifted to Eddie. “I’m afraid that your room is stocked with female clothes. You’ll need to go through Richie’s cabinets.”

A smirk crawled onto Richie’s face, and Eddie immediately detested it. He stood, face flushed pink, and took a breath to steady his nerves. “That’s okay- I’ll do it in a bit. I’m going to take a shower, then poke through Richie’s things.” He aimed a look at the boy in question, but he only replied with an infuriating grin. How was he so casually teasing in a time like this? 

“Don’t you want me to show you to your quarters?” Beverly asked in slight surprise.

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie said with a tight smile, and turned on his heel to go-but not without nicking a few finger sandwiches off of a nearby tray. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was fun to write, haha. putting eddie in katniss' place is relatively easy, but not quite as easy to fit richie in instead of peeta.
> 
> see you tomorrow! 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr at @alaslalune


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it strange how you notice more about a person on the brink of death?

**Chapter Four**

Despite him being on a train, the shower spewed warmer water than Eddie had ever showered in before. He ran his hands through his hair, massaging the strangely scented shampoo into his hair- it smelled vaguely tropical, and when he checked the bottle he learned it was ‘coconut and papaya’. Eddie wasn’t sure if he liked it- the scent was nearly overwhelming. 

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stooped to the ground to pick up his clothes, he carried them out of the bathroom to his room. It was strange- a bathroom connected to his bedroom. It made him feel vaguely like a billionaire- though perhaps the unluckiest billionaire ever. He laid out his clothes on the plush bed- king sized, he figured, with a soft blue comforter and piled with fluffy white pillows. He examined the worn fabric with distaste- it seemed so out of place in this lavish room. The only thing that seemed to vaguely fit in was the golden mockingjay pin Betty had given him that he’d attached to his collar. Eddie undid it and held it up to study the carved bird on the arrow. 

Eddie had always liked mockingjays- they’d always seemed like a big ‘fuck you’ to the Capitol. During the district’s rebellion, the Capitol had created a species of genetically moderated birds called jabberjays. The jabberjays were part of a line of genetically altered animals the Capitol had bred for weapons. These animals were technically called ‘muttations’, but were most often referred to as ‘mutts’. Jabberjays had the ability to memorize and replicate entire human conversations after hearing them once. Exclusively male birds, the jabberjays were released into areas with large amounts of rebel activity. The birds would gather conversations and fly back to the Capitol to report- however, the districts soon caught on, and began to feed the birds complete lies to throw the Capitol off. It worked, and the birds were abandoned in the wild to be left to extinction. 

However, they didn’t die off. The entirely male species mated with female mockingbirds in the forests, creating an entirely new species that could replicate both bird song and human melodies. They could no longer pronounce words, but could perfectly mimic vocal ranges anywhere from the high pitched wailing of a child to the deep gravelly rumble of a war stricken elderly veteran. They could also replicate songs- not just a couple notes, but entire songs with many verses- if one had the patience to sing to them, and the mockingjays liked their voice.

Frank Kaspbrak adored mockingjays. When he’d take Eddie hunting, he’d always whistle a few notes out to the birds. He wasn’t a singer, but the mockingjays liked his crisp clean whistle- just like Eddie did. His father always said that Eddie was the singer of the family, and although Eddie heavily disagreed, he’d learned to sing out to the birds when in the forest. The birds would fall silent whenever his father would whistle or Eddie’d sing- listening to them and taking in the melody before repeating it back. 

After his father died, Eddie didn’t sing in the forest for a long time. It wasn’t until a couple years ago, on a solo hunting trip, Eddie had paused in a circle of trees and let out a tentative hum- only a few notes, and he’d realized that his voice had dropped in pitch since the last time he’d sung.

There was silence, and Eddie had felt stupid for even trying.

A mockingjay had then sung out in a clear voice, replicating Eddie’s tune even down to the slight waver of his voice. More had joined, and suddenly Eddie had been surrounding by mockingjays singing out his tune from the trees. 

He’d made it a habit to offer the birds some melody whenever he was hunting, whether it was a full song or a few notes of a verse. The mockingjays always sung back to him, and Bill eventually began to whistle out an offering as well- though the birds didn’t always accept it, much to Bill’s chagrin.

Eddie rested the pin on the dresser next to the bed, pulling the towel tighter around his waist before stepping into the cramped corridor of the train. He crossed to the identical door across from his, opening it and stepping inside immediately.

“Not even a knock?” Came Richie’s voice from where he was sitting at the head of his bed and cleaning his glasses on his shirt. When he looked over at Eddie, his eyes flicked over him in a way that made Eddie aware that he was looking over Eddie- naked except a towel that hung over his hips and to his knees. “Well, hey.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said on instinct, face heating into a flushed red. “I’m here to take some clothes.”

“Right, right,” Richie said, slipping off the bed and sliding his glasses back on. “Nothing in your room to your liking?”

“Not really,” Eddie snapped, following Richie over to his dresser. He began to pull out random drawers as Richie watched in amusement- “Is something funny?”

“Nothing,” the other replied, and Eddie could practically  _ hear  _ the smirk in his voice. He wondered how Richie had a reputation as the class clown when clearly he was just a dick. “How could anything be funny? We’re being sent to our deaths, if you hadn’t noticed Edward.”

“It’s Eddie,” he hissed, fuming. “And I was under the impression that  _ you  _ hadn’t noticed, given how you were fucking fawning over the Capitol technology.” He grabbed an olive green shirt and black pants, along with socks and underwear. “Richard,” he added a beat later for good measure.

Richie only laughed at the name, and his jovial nature pissed Eddie off to no end. He stood and clutched the clothes to his chest, noticing that Richie was still wearing the same clothes as earlier. “Not changing?”

“Didn’t want to be indecent when you came in, Eds,” he replied cockily, and that felt like the last straw to Eddie. 

He kicked the drawer closed, scowling up at Richie. “Don’t call me Eds,” he hissed before turning on his heel and moving out of Richie’s room, slamming the door closed and stepping into his own with a huff. 

Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about Richie that got under his skin so easily, but whatever it was- it pissed Eddie off, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. They had less than a week to live, because really, the two weren’t going to make it past the initial bloodbath. Eddie, although a hunter, was small and would probably have one of his panic attacks as soon as he stepped into the arena. Richie, although tall, was a baker. 

What would he do, throw poisonous cake at the other tributes?

He knew the topic of alliances were going to come up soon, and he wasn’t quite sure to how to phrase his answer to the inevitable question- how did one politely say ‘I’m not fucking teaming up with you because I plan on killing you’?

Dressing in the clothes from Richie’s room, Eddie pinned Betty’s mockingjay pin to the collar of the new shirt- resting near his heart. Sliding on his district shoes, he stepped into the hall and walked back to where he’d entered. Finding no one there, he moved on to the next room- it seemed like a dining room, with a long table down the center. Beverly and Ben sat at the heads, and that left Richie in the middle on the left. Eddie took the middle on the right, pointedly avoiding looking at Richie.

The dinner was a five course meal, far more than Eddie had ever had for just one dinner. Despite that, it took every ounce of self control he had to hold back from wolfing down each serving. He ate as politely as he could, keeping quiet as Beverly calmly reminded both him and Richie (who was consuming his portions with the same gusto) to save space for the food to come. Eddie didn’t see the issue with how fast he was eating- in fact, probably the best thing he could do for the games was put on a few pounds.

After the meal, however, he could feel his stomach churn and realized that perhaps Beverly had had a point. Eddie looked across the table to see Richie seeming a bit green as well- although he was the baker’s son and therefore more well off than most in District 12, neither of them were used to quite so rich food. Ben, however, was still drinking and eating without a hint of visible nausea. The victor’s salary must have built up his tolerance.

Eddie followed Beverly and the others to another train compartment, this one with plush couches with vibrant cushions and a large screen, to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. Given that Eddie was at his own Reaping, he’d been unable to watch the selection of the children and teenagers that would be his fellow tributes and, ultimately, his enemies. 

Richie sat himself down next to Eddie, and luckily there was no palpable tension between the pair. They examined the faces of their competition silently, with a few sticking out in Eddie’s mind. There was a larger girl with stringy blond hair from District 1 that smirked as her name was called. A hulking boy with the most hideous haircut that Eddie had ever seen that lunged forwards to volunteer in District 2. A boy from District 7 that let out a long belch in response to his name being read that made Eddie wrinkle his nose in disgust. And, perhaps the worst of all, a twelve-year old boy from District 11. He had light brown hair and eyes, but other than that, he was just like Betty in size and demeanor. However, when he stepped up onto stage quietly and trembling, the crowd stayed silent. No one volunteered to take his place. 

The last one to be showed was District 12. Betty’s name being called, Eddie dashing up frantically to volunteer in her place. It was impossible to miss the fear in his voice as he stared up at Beverly, pleading to be taken instead. He watched Bill pull his sister away as Eddie mounted the steps instead. The commentators tittered about how unusual it was to have a boy volunteer in a girl’s place, but agreed that there were no rules forbidding it. They also had no idea what to say for the crowd’s silent salute instead of applause, until one finally managed to remark that District 12, although strange, was quite a charming little community with quaint customs. Richie’s name was drawn, he and Eddie shook hands, and it cut back to the commentators for final remarks. They laughed for a moment about Ben’s obvious inebriety, much to the bristling of the man in the train compartment, before the screen faded to the anthem, and then the end of the program. 

Beverly sighed, looking to Ben. “You should probably cut down on the drinking for the next few days.”

Ben shrugged, taking a swig from the flask he kept clipped at his hip. “It’s the same every year,” he said simply. “No one expects different. Not even me.”

Beverly seemed slightly taken aback by that answer, but didn’t push it. Richie had a slight smirk dancing across his lips, and he looked to Eddie for his reaction. Eddie remained stoic, but let his eyes meet Richie’s for a moment. The other seemed pleased with that reply, and settled back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Beverly ran a hand over her face. “It may not seem important to you,” she said in a clipped tone, “but you are these two’s mentor. You’re their lifeline in the Games.” She turned to Eddie and Richie, a somber and slightly scolding expression directed at the pair. “He lines up your gifts, your sponsorships, and advises you. He can be the difference between your life, and your death.”

Ben, offering a tight smile, raised his flask. “To life and death, eh?”

Beverly shook her head and stood, stomping out of the train compartment. Richie raised his water class to clink it against Ben’s, and it occurred to Eddie that this was not Ben’s first Games as a mentor. For every year since his own, he’d mentored the two poor souls that had been chosen to compete in District 12’s name. Every year, he’d watched two teenagers that he was responsible for die.

Honestly, Eddie didn’t blame him for being a drunk.

Eddie stood and picked up his water glass from the table in front of him.

“Heading to bed?” Richie asked him quizzically. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, stepping around Richie’s legs to get to the door.

“C’mon Eddie,” the other said, throwing out a hand to grasp Eddie’s elbow. The smaller boy froze, but made no move to turn around. “You have, like, a week to live, and you’re going to bed early?”

Eddie turned his head to meet Richie’s eyes, surprisingly bright behind his glasses. It occurred to Eddie for a moment that his fellow tribute was actually attractive, and the thought made him yank his arm away. “Yes,” he said plainly, and quickly left the room before Richie could reply.

He couldn’t think of Richie in that way at all. Not when they’d both be dead within a week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!!
> 
> however i got a new computer, so it should be much easier for me to update! thank you for the continued support <3 i'm really enjoying the fact that i'm able to slip more reddie into this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what are mentors really for? and what does one have to do to survive with their fellow tribute?

**Chapter Five**

Eddie had barely stepped into his room before he heard footsteps following him down the hall. He closed the door nearly all the way except for a sliver, which he used to peer out into the train corridor.

Richie was helping a clearly  _ very  _ intoxicated Ben (who was apparently far drunker than Eddie had realized) down the hall and towards the mentor’s room. Eddie narrowed his eyes as he watched his fellow tribute carefully guide the older man past Eddie’s door and watchful stare. He watched as Richie escort Ben to his room before moving to his own. At the last minute he looked towards Eddie’s door, and he had the horrifying thought that Richie could see him watching. Eddie closed his door as quickly as he could, not caring about the loud thump it made in the doorframe and shutting off the lights.

Thinking as he climbed into the overly soft bed, Eddie realized that a kind Richie Tozier was far more dangerous than any other sort. Not only were kind people more likely to get sponsorships during the Games, but Eddie was far too weak when it came to letting kind people into his life. He couldn’t make that mistake when he was days away from facing Richie in the arena. 

Eddie sat in his bed, plush pillows against his back, and stared ahead out of the window across from him. He could see passing lights that he imagined were from a district, and trees out ahead. The bed was far softer than his one at home, with the small ratty mattress he shared with Betty.

Betty, who was probably sleeping with their mother tonight in her slightly larger and comfier bed. She did that when she was scared and Eddie was gone- he’d come back from falling asleep next to Bill in the woods and find her curled up against Sonia, one of their mother’s arms holding her in a deceivingly protective gesture- when really, it was keeping Betty from moving away. 

Imagining his home left Eddie feeling empty. The day had felt months long- it had only been that morning that he was perched on the hilltop next to Bill, overlooking the district and eating the freshly baked bread.

That came from the Tozier bakery.

It all felt like a twisted, horrible nightmare. He wondered for a moment that if he fell asleep, would he wake up in the morning back in District 12? Would he be able to live out his life the way he was meant to- hunt for money, move out, marry eventually. Marry Bill. Really, that was what was expected of him- the Denbroughs had embraced Eddie into their life after Frank Kaspbrak and Zack Denbrough died. When at age twelve Bill had told Eddie he’d loved him, it had just seemed obvious that the two would marry once they were old enough. Sure, the most they’d ever shared was a chaste kiss in the woods a few months ago, Eddie was happy with the plan of marrying Bill after they finished school. 

Now that future was ripped from him.

Eddie tried to hold it in, he really did, but soon a steady flow of tears escaped his eyes and he curled up on his side, silent sobs wracking his body as he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of all that he could have had.

Eddie woke hours later to sunlight pouring through the window. He sat up in the sheets, having managed to twist them into a bunch around him in his sleep. Blinking dazedly, he barely registered a sharp rapping on the door. It opened slightly to reveal a sharply dressed Beverly, a careful smile on her face. “Big day,” she said, once she saw Eddie sitting up in bed and looking at her in confusion. “Come on out.”

She closed the door and Eddie ran a hand through his hair, dimly registering how it was flattened on one side. He stood and pulled on the same outfit as he’d worn the previous evening, given that one- he was used to wearing the same clothes often and these weren’t very dirty, and two- the male clothes were in Richie’s room. He peered into the gilded mirror next to his bed, running a hand through his hair and shaping it until he deemed it presentable. He didn’t fuss over it as long as he normally might- they couldn’t be far from the Capitol, and as soon as he arrived his stylist would be dictating every last inch of his look for the opening ceremonies that night. 

Stepping out into the hallway, Eddie was guided by the sound of clinking and muffled voices out to the dining car. Beverly immediately hustled past him clutching a cup full of steaming black coffee, mumbling a string of obscenities that made even Eddie raise an eyebrow in appreciation. Ben, sitting at the same seat at the head of the table that he was the night before, sported a red puffy face from the previous day’s copious amounts of alcohol. Richie held two breakfast rolls, one in each hand, and though he had dark circles beneath his eyes he still immediately fixed Eddie with a bright grin. “Eds!”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie said tiredly, sitting down across the table from Richie, who held up the buttery roll in his right hand. Without another word, he pushed a waiting plate to Eddie- steaming piles of fried potatoes, eggs, slices of ham. Next to it, a large bowl of fruit sat waiting nestled in ice. Peering at the meal in front of him, Eddie thought that it was enough to feed his family for a week- two if they were careful. 

Finally, Richie passed him a mug of dark brown liquid that smelled rich and sweeter than anything you could find in Eddie’s home. “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate,” Richie whispered, as if it were all some grand secret that the Capitol couldn’t know they knew. “It’s so good.” He proffered a roll to Eddie.

Eddie hesitantly took it and ripped off a small chunk, dipping it into the hot chocolate and swirling it experimentally before raising it to his lips.

As soon as he tasted the smooth, warm chocolate, Eddie was lifting the mug and taking four long drinks of it. It scalded his tongue, but Eddie couldn’t find it within himself to care. Soon he’d finished the hot chocolate, ignoring the rest of the food in front of him. Richie laughed, but not in a mocking way- as if he genuinely understood Eddie’s course of actions. Eddie then followed that example with the rest of the food on his plate, eating as quickly as he could without appearing rude. Once his mother had made a remark on how it couldn’t be good for Eddie to eat like he’d never see food again. Eddie’d replied- “Well, I won’t if I don’t bring it home.”

She hadn’t said anything on the subject since. 

Richie’d been eating the same way, and had polished off his plate a few moments before Eddie did. Ben had completely ignored his own breakfast, instead directing his attention to a glass full of red liquid that Eddie figured was  _ not  _ juice. After watching him for a few moments, Eddie decided he was sick of Ben’s idle silence. 

“So,” the boy said, looking to the mentor. “You’re supposed to give us some advice.” Richie looked up from where he was picking off the crumbs from his plate, evidently intrigued by the new path of the conversation. 

“Here’s some advice,” Ben said, in while a not unkind voice was a decidedly rough one. “Stay alive.” He chuckled as if sharing an inside joke with himself. Eddie looked across the table to Richie, as if trying to confirm that that was indeed a bullshit action, and was surprised to find hardness in the normally light and joking eyes behind Richie’s glasses. 

“That’s very funny,” Richie said coldly, and before Eddie could blink he was lashing out and smashing Ben’s glass to the ground. It shattered on the floor of the train compartment, the glass nearly exploding into miniscule shards as the red liquid immediately soaked into the carpet. “Only not to us.”

Beverly’s head shot up from her seat as soon as the glass collided with the floor and she stood as if to stop it, but not before Ben’s fist connected with the side of Richie’s jaw. Richie had a few inches on Ben, but he was lanky, and the force of the punch nearly had him sliding off of his chair as his hand raised to his face in shock. 

Ben turned back to the table to reach for the bottle of red liquid and a new glass on the table, but before he could grasp one Eddie, quick as can be, drove his knife into the table between Ben’s fingers. He immediately braced himself to prepare for Ben’s hit, knowing how to after years of play fighting with Bill in the woods, but no attack came. 

“What’s this?” Came Ben’s voice instead, and Eddie looked forward to see Ben pulling his hand away from the knife and looking at the pair of tributes in satisfied surprise. “I got two actual fighters this year.”

“Don’t talk about us that way,” Eddie replied immediately, furrowing his brow. “It’s demeaning.”

“That won’t be  _ nearly  _ the most demeaning thing said about you, kid,” Ben said, in a sad and honest voice. 

Richie reached for ice from beneath the fruit to hold to his jaw, but Ben waved his hand. “Let it show,” he said in a nearly paternal tone- as if he weren’t a drunk maniac that caused that bruise not thirty seconds before. “The audience will think you’re a fighter. You could use that. You don’t come off as very… aggressive. Eddie, on the other hand-” he looked over to Eddie, who was practically fuming at the way Ben was talking about him as an object to present to the Capitol. “He’s small, smaller than the rest of the teenagers probably, but you can see the anger radiating from him.” The mentor considered this for a moment. “Anything else you can do with a knife?”

Eddie was better with a bow, but that didn’t at all mean that he was lacking with a knife. His father and Bill had both made sure of that. He gripped the knife and pulled it from the table, making Beverly wince, and threw it at the wall. It lodged between two panels, sticking and holding with a faint quiver. 

Ben nodded. “That’s useful. Both of you stand?” 

Richie and Eddie stood and made their way to stand as a pair at the head of the table next to Ben. Richie nudged Eddie slightly with his elbow, ever the infuriating goof, and the shorter boy pinched his bicep to the satisfying sound of Richie yelping in pain. Ben didn’t seem to notice- though that was less likely a comment on their shiftiness than it was on how he was already tipsy. 

Ben examined the pair for a moment. “Both of you have some muscle,” he allowed after a moment. “Though Eddie’s height difference won’t do him any favors.” Richie smirked slightly, and Eddie kicked him in the shin- not only was his height being brought up  _ once again _ , but this asshole was laughing at a thing that could possibly get him killed. “Attractive well enough, and you’ll make a handsome pair. That’s important- you’ll be appearing together as often as you appear alone, so you can’t clash.”

After another moment of thinking and a heated exchange through eye contact with Beverly, Ben sighed. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. You two don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you. Alright?”

Not a fantastic deal, but from what Eddie could figure it was better than any other tributes had ever gotten from him- and it sure beat what they had ten minutes ago. 

“Fine,” said Richie, answering for the both of them.

“So then help us!” Eddie said immediately before launching into his questioning. “When you get to the Cornucopia, what’s the best strategy-”

Ben held up a hand to him. “Nuh-uh.”

“Excuse me?!” Eddie said incredulously.

“We’ll be arriving at the station in a few minutes,” Ben explained. “Your stylists will get ahold of you, and you’ll be in their hands. You’re not going to like what they do to you, but it’s futile to resist.”

“But-” Eddie and Richie protested simultaneously.

“No,” Ben said, shaking his head solemnly. “That’s that.” He picked up the bottle of liquor and stood, exiting the train compartment. 

“He’s right,” Beverly said, looking over from his seat. “We may seem like your team, but your stylists have just as much of a say in how the Capitol sees you than we do- perhaps even more.”

“I dress myself,” Richie said stubbornly.

Eddie snorted. “Anyone can tell that,” he replied- even though District 12 was a frugal one, it wasn’t hard to spot Richie Tozier decked out in the most hideous pieces of fabric sewn into shirts that one could ever find. 

Richie opened his mouth to argue back, but the car went black- passing through the mountains, Eddie supposed. Mountains surrounded the Capitol, barricading it from the eastern districts. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get through the mountains, and soon the car is flooded with light once more. Richie sprinted for the nearest window, and Eddie followed him- plastered against the glass, they could see the sparkling towers of the Capitol, the city of Panem. Eddie had never seen it in person- no citizen of District 12 had- and seeing it almost made him forget why he was there in the first place. The golden towers pierced the sky, casting rainbow hues that fell down to the streets. Cars raced over fresh asphalt, and even from the train Eddie could spot people in odd clothes and bright hair that looked as if they’d never missed a meal in their life. It made Eddie want to be angry, but all he could feel was longing. Longing for that life, for him and for the ones he loved. 

People began to point at the train as it moved towards the train station- it was obvious that it was a tribute train, after all. Eddie stepped away, hating the attention as they began to slow. Richie, however, stayed pressed to the window. He began to wave and smile excitedly, beaming at the gawking crowds. He only stopped when the train entered the station, moving us from the crowd’s view.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie asked in confusion, having no idea why Richie would willing cater to these people.

“One of them might be rich,” Richie said, raising an eyebrow as if it were obvious, and the thought made Eddie’s churn for a multitude of reasons. 

One, being that he too would have to begin to do the same if he wanted sponsorships during the games. 

And the second, Eddie realized as the train doors opened, was that Richie was already playing an angle. The nice guy. The sweet guy. Who was to say that he wasn’t playing that angle to Eddie?

Richie, the boy who’d saved Eddie’s life, was now no one he could trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the wait again!! busy life, haha- so i tried to make this chapter a bit longer than the last few, as a thank you <3
> 
> come talk to me at @alaslalune on tumblr!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the opening ceremonies. two boys on fire.

**Chapter Six**

Eddie hated being styled.

Ever since he was born, his mother fussed over him in every way she could. His appearance, his health, his friends- He only managed to vaguely escape it once his father died, was finally able to stand up for himself and his sister. That was when he stopped letting her choose his clothes for him, feed him whatever she stockpiled from the town apothecary, and pick which of the kids Eddie played with her acceptable. He escaped the cycle of endless, destructive attention.

But it felt like he was right back with his mother as the hair was waxed from between his brows.

“Fucking hell!” He wheezed as the strip of wax was ripped from his forehead, several hairs coming with it.

“Sorry!” Apologized Audra, one of the people on Eddie’s team. Team of what, he wasn’t quite sure. Her voice was high- her than anyone’s in the District, and clearly not quite natural. In fact, it seemed like a sort of Capitol fashion to speak in such a high falsetto, and it made Eddie want to gag. She made what Eddie figured was an attempt at a sympathetic face. “You’re all good now though!”

Eddie reached up and rubbed gingerly at the raw skin between his eyebrows. He’d been in the Styling Center for the past three hours, being waxed and plucked and cleaned, and he hadn’t even met his stylist yet. Eddie understood that maybe he wasn’t necessarily as prim and proper as the Capitol citizens, but his body had been so aggressively scrubbed that Eddie was sure that two layers of skin had come off along with the everlasting dirt that came with living in District Twelve- not necessarily something he enjoyed, but something he’d come to live with. His nails were cut into uniform shapes, and his hair trimmed and styled. The stylists had suggested styling him more femininely to match with the other tribute pairs, but ultimately decided against anything over the top. Instead his nails were given a clear coat of gloss, and it was said that there would be bare makeup on him during the ceremonies. Eddie had wrinkled his nose at that- but to them, he was nothing more than a glorified doll.

Don and Vicky, the other two members of Eddie’s team, pulled Eddie up from the table he’d been lying on. Vicky tugged at the thin blue robe that Eddie was allowed to wear, and it dropped to the ground to leave Eddie naked. The three circled him, like a flock of brightly colored vultures, and Eddie had never felt more on display. 

“You almost look like a human being now,” Don teased, nodding in approval. Eddie didn’t crack a smile- instead, his brow furrowed in offense.

“Oh, don’t be angry,” Vicky said lightly. “We’re just preparing you for your stylist. Once he’s through with you, you’ll be more gorgeous than before.”

Audra and Don nodded in agreement. “Let’s get him!” Don said excitedly, and the three disappeared from the room in such a rush that Eddie practically felt whiplash. 

Looking around, the cold air bit at his skin, and Eddie could barely fight back the urge to tug his robe back on- but he figured that his stylist would only make him remove it, and so instead Eddie fiddled with his hair nervously. It had been newly styled, and it was shorter than he would have liked- he looked just like he had when he was thirteen and his mother would cut his hair. Peering into the mirror across from him, Eddie thought wistfully of the hairstyle he’d been fighting to keep- just long enough that it curled above his ears. It’d take him a while to get back to that.

The door opened, and Eddie looked over to see a young man that must have been his stylist enter. Most of the stylists they showed on the television were overdone, with grotesque surgery and garish makeup, but his stylist seemed so natural with dark blond curls and piercing hazel eyes. The only slight alteration he had was a thin strand of black eyeliner along his upper lid to back his eyes appear more attentive, and although Eddie wasn’t one for makeup he couldn’t help but admit it was attractive.

“Hello Eddie,” the man said, in a soft voice that made Eddie’s back straighten in effort to meet the man’s eye. “I’m Stanley, your stylist- but you can call me Stan.”

“Hello,” Eddie replied nervously. 

“Give me a moment, alright?” Stan asked calmly, and proceeded to walk around Eddie in a circle, looking over him attentively. Eddie’s cheeks burned self consciously, but he kept his eyes stubbornly on the wall ahead of him as Stan examined him. “I hope they weren’t too intense. They’re new.”

“Aren’t you too?” Eddie asked. “I haven’t seen you before for the Games.” 

Stan chuckled softly- his voice was low, quiet, and it made Eddie want to listen. It was unlike the high pitched screeches of the other Capitol folk he’d been met with. “It’s my first Games,” he agreed. 

“So of course they stuck you with Twelve,” Eddie said bitterly. Twelve was each stylist’s least favorite district, for it was the district of coal. Each year, the tributes were dressed as disgusting coal miners.

“No, no,” Stan said. “I asked for Twelve.”

Eddie looked at him incredulously, for who in their right mind would  _ ask  _ for District Twelve, but Stan had already moved on. 

“Why don’t you put your robe back on,” Stan said coolly. “And we’ll have a chat.”

Eddie bent down to retrieve his robe, slipping it back over his shoulders and tying the belt firmly around his waist. Following Stan through the door, Eddie was led to a sitting room with two red couches and a large wall made completely of glass overlooking the city of Panem. Stan sat on one couch and gestured for Eddie to sit on the other, and as soon as the boy did his stylist pressed a button on a remote. The top of the coffee table between them opened to reveal a gourmet meal of chicken, peas, rice, rolls, and pudding. Eddie resisted the urge to gape at the spread, becoming more accustomed by each meal in the Capitol, but the voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it would take  _ days  _ for him to be able to assemble this sort of meal in the districts.

He looked up from the meal to find Stan’s intent eyes set upon him. “We must seem despicable to you,” the man said simply.

Eddie didn’t reply- couldn’t reply, really. How did one say that yes, he did find the entirety of the Capitol and each of its citizens despicable. How did they pass their time, eat food at the push of a button and watch children die on the television for their pleasure?

“No matter,” Stan said briskly after the brief silence. “Nothing  _ I  _ could say or do could convince you otherwise, even if I wanted to.”

Eddie, once more, was left speechless by the candor of Stan’s words.

“About your costume for the opening ceremonies,” Stan said without missing a beat. “My partner, Patty, is the stylist for your fellow tribute Richie. We’ve decided that we’d like to dress you both in complementary costumes. As you know, the theme for the opening ceremonies is to reflect the flavor of your district.”

“Let me guess,” Eddie said drily. “I’ll be in a coal miner’s outfit?”

However, Stan had the audacity to laugh. “No, not exactly. See, Patty and I think that the coal miner thing…. Is overdone, to say the least. You won’t be memorable in it.”

“Please don’t say you’re stripping us and covering us in coal dust.”

Stan chuckled. “I am not, but I’ll save that idea. See, it’s our job to make you unforgettable. So instead of mining, we’ll be focusing on the coal itself.”

Eddie made a face, preparing for the worst. 

“What do you do with coal?” Stan asked, and what Eddie would classify as a malicious smirk if he didn’t know better crept across the stylist’s face. “You burn it. You’re not afraid of fire, are you Eddie?”

Eddie’s shoulders straightened.

A few hours later, Eddie was thinking that maybe he was afraid of fire. 

He was dressed in something that anyone could agree was attention catching- a simple black unitard that clung to him from ankles to neck, paired with shiny lace up leather boots to his knees. However, that wasn’t the attention grabbing part. It was the cape of red, orange, and yellow with a matching circlet that made the outfit. Why?

Stan planned to light them on fire.

“It’s not real fire,” Stan explained to him once more. “Just a synthetic flame concoction that Patty and I came up with. You’ll be perfectly safe.” For some reason, Eddie had a hard time believing that.

Audra had drawn on with a gentle hand black eyeliner, and looking into the handheld mirror Stan offered Eddie saw that it made him look just a bit more powerful than normal. He adjusted the braided circlet that rested on his head and looked up to Stan for confirmation. “I want the audience to remember you when you’re in the arena,” Stan whispered to him, in what was in all accounts a conspiratorial manner. “Eddie, the boy who was on fire.”

It crossed his mind that Stan’s calm and collected exterior masked a madman.

Richie arrived as if on cue once Stan mentioned ‘the boy on fire’, and Eddie was relieved to see that he was dressed nearly identically- the only difference was that instead of a circlet he wore what seemed to be a jutting crown. Patty arrived with him, along with their styling team, and they all seemed giddy over what a splash they’d be making in the ceremony- that is, except for Stan. He seemed nearly tired as he accepted the praise and congratulations.

They were brought down to the Remake Center, which seemed to Eddie to just be a large stable. Pairs of tributes climbed into chariots pulled by teams of four horses each- with District Twelve’s being as black as coal. Stan and Patty helped Eddie and Richie into their chariot before moving off to consult with each other.

“What do you think?” Eddie asked him anxiously. “About the fire?”

“I’ll rip yours off if you do mine,” Richie said, looking down at him with a matching worried expression.

“Fucking deal,” Eddie muttered, gripping the front of the chariot so tightly his knuckles began to turn white. “I know we told Ben we’d do what they said, but I’m going to draw the line at being set on fire.”

“Where is Ben, anyway?” Richie asked, looking around. “Isn’t he supposed to, y’know… protect us?”

“What a great job he’s doing of that,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. 

“With all that alcohol in him, it’s probably not best to have him near an open flame,” Richie agreed, and suddenly they were both laughing. The anxiety of the Games and, more pressingly, being lit on fire, had them both seeking some sort of release. 

The opening music, the Capitol anthem, began. Massive doors opened at the front of the line of chariots, revealing crowds cheering and whooping along a long road. District One pulled out first, covered in silver paint with jeweled tunics. Making luxury items for the Capitol, District One was always a crowd favorite. 

The other districts soon followed, and in what felt like absolutely no time later District Eleven was setting off. 

Stan approached with a torch, a small smile decorating his face that infuriated Eddie. “It’s time.” Before Eddie could protest, leap out of the chariot and take off running, Stan reached forward and lit his cape on fire. Eddie froze, waiting for the flames to creep onto his body and burn him to death, but instead was greeted with a faint tickle as the fire lit his entire cape. Stan grinned, seemingly pleased with the result, and reached to do the same for Richie. Eddie’s fellow tribute squeezed his eyes shut, but opened them in shock after a moment. Stan moved in front of them and lifted the torch to light Richie’s crown, and then Eddie’s circlet. “It worked,” he breathed, relieved. Stan raised a hand and tilted Eddie’s chin up high. “Head tall. Smile. Let them want to believe in you.” And with that he took a few steps away. The music swelled, and right then Stan got an idea. He yelled out to Eddie and Richie, gesturing, but Eddie couldn’t make it out.

“What is he saying?”

“I think he wants us to hold hands,” Richie said, and Eddie looked over at him in surprise. He shrugged- “C’mon Eds, what do we have to lose?” And with that he grabbed Eddie’s left hand in his own, and the two entered the city. 

Screams were heard at first as the two tributes rode in on fire, but they quickly turned into loud cheers at their arrival. Shouts of “District Twelve!” rang out around them, and Eddie looked around in amazement. He took in the smiling faces, the cheers. He realized flowers were being tossed to them, and he managed to catch a rose midair. He held it in his hand as he offered small waves to the crowd before noticing the projection of their chariot on a large screen- he and Richie nearly looked divine, the fire spilling from the top of their heads to their flowing capes. The fire cast harsh shadows on their face in the dusk light, making them appear magical.

Eddie rather liked it. 

The attention of the crowd was nearly overwhelming, and Eddie was glad that he had Richie’s hand to hold on to, to cling to for balance. 

Stan was right. No one would forget him. 

They reached the City Circle, and only then did Eddie realize that he was gripping Richie’s so tightly that he’d cut off the circulation. He went to pull away, but Richie kept a firm hold on his hand. “Don’t let go,” he murmured softly, and his eyes looked so genuine behind his glasses. “Please.”

Eddie kept ahold of his hand, but all he could think about was that it was a bit unfair for Stan and Patty to present them this way- as a team, being sent into a deadly free-for-all event.

The City Circle was made of the mansions of the Capitol’s richest citizens, coming to a halt in front of President Gray’s mansion. 

The president, a tall thin man with greying hair and a sickening smile, stepped to a balcony in front of his house to deliver the traditional welcome speech. It’s normal to show each tribute pair during the speech, but Eddie noted that he and Richie were clearly dominating the footage. The darker the night grew, the harder it was to look away from their flames. The anthem began to play, and the Chariots were quickly ushered back to the Training Center.

As soon as Eddie and Richie stepped down from the chariot, they were engulfed by the excitement of their prep teams. Eddie managed to break away enough to see the dirty looks coming from the other tributes. He was right- they’d outshone them all. It sent a sickening trail of anxiety down his back. If the other tributes already held a vendetta against him, it wouldn’t bode well for him in the arena. 

Stan and Patty helped Eddie and Richie out of their flaming capes and headdresses, extinguishing them with some sort of spray from a can. 

Eddie realized that his hand was still tucked within the vise grip of Richie’s much larger hand, and managed to carefully extract it. 

“Thanks for holding on,” Richie said to him, and Eddie thought that he noted a tinge of bashfulness in his voice.  _ Cute _ . “I thought I was going to pass out.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Eddie said. “You seemed pretty comfortable out there.”

“I belong in the limelight,” Richie teased, extracting a small smile from Eddie. “Though I doubt any of it was on me. You should wear flames more often, Eds. They suit you.”

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie said instinctively, before the compliment could even register. His lips formed a small ‘o’, and Richie laughed. Not meanly, not mean at all, but a genuinely carefree laugh. Not something Eddie expected to hear here. 

Something flashed through Eddie’s mind- reminding him that Richie was his enemy. That he was most likely buttering Eddie up to kill him.

Two could play at that game, he thought.

Standing on his tiptoes and tugging Richie down slightly, Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek- right over his bruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story so far! it really means so much to me.
> 
> i'm trying to put a bit more of an effort into chapters, so that's why they take a bit longer to update. however, i like how they're turning out more!
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> come talk to me at @alaslalune on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Katniss - Eddie  
> Peeta - Richie  
> Gale - Bill  
> Haymitch - Ben  
> Effie - Beverly  
> Snow - Robert Gray  
> Caesar - Mike  
> Cinna - Stan  
> Rue - Georgie  
> Glimmer - Myra  
> Cato - Henry  
> Clove - Greta  
> Thresh - Adrian  
> Marvel - Patrick  
> Mother - Sonia  
> Prim - Betty
> 
> I tried to make the characters true to themselves while fitting in as the characters from the Hunger Games. I apologize for the lack of Richie content- I promise it's on it's way!
> 
> Come talk to me at @alaslalune on tumblr!


End file.
